


Deux

by bethevibeyouseek



Category: Orange is the New Black, Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 03:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethevibeyouseek/pseuds/bethevibeyouseek
Summary: Welcome to Part II the Crimson series. Need I say more?
Relationships: Franky Doyle/Bridget Westfall, Stella Carlin/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	Deux

**Author's Note:**

> Please review the content warnings prior to reading. I will post trigger warnings before any of the heavier content. That being said, reader discretion is advised.

“What am I going to do with you, Ms. Westfall?” Franky’s grin started at the corner of her lips as she watched her beautiful sub shift on her knees. She had ridden Bridget hard for their first time in their brand new space. Although she’d never miss her old house turned prison, she certainly did miss seeing Bridget on her knees in the red room. They’d made due well enough in Bridget’s bedroom, but nothing was a match for the newly renovated den of pleasure.  
  
 _It had taken the contractor several weeks to put Franky’s detailed plans into place in Bridget’s spare bedroom turned playroom._

_"Thank you so much... you did a great job, we can't wait to use it!" Bridget smiled as she shook the contractor’s hand one final time at their front door._   
  
_"No problem at all! Mind if I ask what you're going to use it for? You never did say," The gruff man asked as he moved to shake Franky’s hand._   
  
_"Sex dungeon,” Franky smirked with a wink._   
  
_"Franky!" Bridget smacked Franky’s arm. "It'll be a multipurpose room, some work out equipment, an extra bedroom, it'll be put to a lot of good use so thanks again for the great work!" Bridget flashed her signature smile._   
  
_"You ladies are quirky. I like it. Have a great one and if there's ever anything else, please do give me a ring," the contractor passed a business card into Franky’s hand._   
  
_“Cheers, mate,” Franky waved him off down the drive towards his truck._   
  
_"Baby, I can't believe you sometimes,” Bridget shook her head as she closed the front door._   
  
_“Aw, c’mon Gidge. Poor old fool’s probably never seen a lesbian couple in his life, I had to give him something to talk about. Besides, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you asked me to move in officially.”_   
  
_“Well you couldn’t stay shacked up in that apartment forever.”_   
  
_“You’re right, terrible support beams. Would never be able to support a hook without pulling down the whole ceiling.”_   
  
_“I was more so thinking about the thin walls.”_   
  
_“Ah yes, my neighbor was terribly concerned for my poor cat howling,” Franky’s laughter filled the air. Roughly she pulled Bridget down the hallway before pressing her against the closed door and shoving her leg between Bridget’s causing her to gasp._   
  
_“Please,” Bridget managed to pant as her eyes struggled to remain open. Franky leaned back, her pupils already swallowing the green of her eyes._   
  
_“Get in position, Ms. Westfall.”_

Franky couldn’t stop the smile from straining across her lips at work the following day at the memory of Bridget’s incredible performance. Since dissolving her private practice, she had been working at a portrait studio for nearly six months, and each day was worse than the day before. At the beginning of their relationship, Franky was working to complete her degree in photography. However, they were preoccupied with falling hopelessly in love with one another. Franky spent her mornings in classes and her evenings exploring every inch of Bridget Westfall on every available surface of the home. Franky graduated only to find that the few jobs available were tucked away in family portrait studios. She couldn’t fathom why she needed a bloody degree to squeeze a rubber duck and tell kids to smile. She regretted the day she uttered that ‘any job will do’. Truthfully it had been fine at first. She could survive eight hours of anything if it meant that she got to come home to her golden girl at the end of the day.

_Bridget._

She was one thing that Franky would do absolutely _anything_ for. Including suffering through developing family photo after photo. Franky missed the days when she was developing her own film. There was something about waiting for the sultry photos to slowly push through to the surface that put her in a trance. She still remembered the feeling of her chest swelling with pride. _I did that_ , she would remind herself. Capable of capturing such beauty, her skills were squandered on maternity shoots. Frankly quickly learned that there is nothing worse than dealing with a cranky mum-to-be bearing her swollen stomach for the world to see.  
  
Finally finished, Franky sighed through her nose and removed her gloves. She checked her watch and noticed there was ten minutes left in her shift. She rubbed her eyes and prepared herself for the bright light of the photo studio. Spending all her time in the red tinted lights was certainly doing a number, not only on her vision, but also to her sanity. She blinked her eyes several times trying to adjust quickly to the light as she made sure the dark curtain protecting the drying photos was pulled back in place. All she needed to do was grab her bag from under the counter and she was home free.

“Francesca?” A feminine voice behind Franky caused her stomach to lurch up into her chest. Her mouth went dry as her brain scrambled to place the voice. There was a finite amount of people who referred to Franky by her proper name. Unfortunately she’d already been called out, so hiding behind the counter wasn’t an option. Franky slowly turned around to see Vivian, a former client, standing with a baby on her hip and her husband’s hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Hi,” Franky finally spoke, clearly in shock. It had been nearly a year since Franky had stopped seeing private clients. She preferred to put all of her energy and focus into the world’s perfect submissive: Bridget Westfall.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Vivian asked, confused as to what her former Domme could be doing somewhere as mundane as a family photo studio.  
  
“I..um... work... here,” Franky stammered. She could feel her cheeks turning red under the family’s watchful gaze. Her mind instantly flashed backwards to an image of Vivian with each of her limbs securely fixed to each point of the saltire cross as she begged Franky to take mercy on her.  
  
“I was wondering where you had disappeared to. I must say, I definitely wouldn’t have guessed it’d be here!” Franky smiled awkwardly, noting that Vivian’s voice sounded much different when her nipples weren’t tightly secured in her clamps. Franky made eye contact with the former sub’s husband and then back to Vivian.  
  
“Uh, yeah. Here are the package options. I’ll let the other photographer know you’re here,” Franky thrust the pricing book into her hands and darted quickly for the back room.  
  
“It was nice to see you again!” Vivian called after her.

The confident and self-assured Domme was a shell of herself and she knew it. Reading people was how Franky survived and Erica Fucking Davidson had gotten so far under her skin she had managed to take that from her too. She hadn't seen that contract clause coming back to haunt her or believed that Erica could ever parade around with Mark in front of her so callously.. but she had. And it had hurt. It had more than hurt. It had destroyed her. Franky felt herself fracture further and further with each blow Erica dealt. Franky thought she had already survived the worst kind of pain - her abusive and neglectful childhood - but Erica's actions had done worse because these wounds were neither physical nor superficial. These wounds reached Franky's core and they shook her. They shook her deeply. Her confidence had taken the worst of it but her ability to domme effectively was wiped right out alongside it.

And so, Franky had called Gavin the very next day and asked him to re-assign her clients. Franky hadn't made the decision impulsively. She had always known that if she couldn't Domme effectively, she wouldn't and couldn't do it at all. There was nothing sexy about an insecure and broken domme. Franky had worked tirelessly to continue cultivating Francesca's image and reputation after blossoming as an apprentice under Gavin's tutelage. She had retained several long-term clients with whom she had worked very closely. And over their many years together, they had come to know and continued to seek out Francesca for her strengths: her passion, loyalty, fierceness, tenderness, and, most of all, her endless confidence when fulfilling their deepest, darkest fantasies and desires. Because Franky had prided herself on her ability to connect with her clients in such a profound way, they would surely recognize that her heart was no longer in it. And how could she expect it to be? Her heart was in a million pieces thanks to Erica Fucking Davidson. Bridget, her beautiful, selfless, and endlessly devoted, Gidge, had picked each and every one of the tiny little fragments off the floor and held them together with nothing but pure understanding, support, and unwavering love as Franky tried to heal.

By the time Franky had made it home, her hands were shaking so badly she struggled to open the front door.  
  
“Hey Baby!” Bridget greeted her warmly from the kitchen as she poured herself a glass of wine. “Red or white?” She asked as she turned back towards the wine cabinet. When Franky made no attempt to respond, Bridget turned with confusion painted on her brow. Once her blue eyes found green, she gasped. Franky’s eyes looked absolutely feral as she grazed over Bridget’s form. A wolfish smile appeared on the Domme’s face as she bared her teeth for her prey to see.  
  
“Franky,” Bridget breathed out as she found herself being pulled under her spell once again.  
  
Franky approached quickly as she pulled Bridget into her arms and began trailing a rough line of biting kisses down Bridget’s neck.  
  
“Franky, what are you-”  
  
“I want to fuck,” the brunette interrupted brazenly as she tugged her black shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor. She made fast work of Bridget’s clothing and it quickly joined the growing pile. Franky picked up the petite blonde with ease, her hands cupping her firm arse possessively as she carried her back towards the bedroom.  
  
“Baby-” Bridget tried once more to get Franky to use words, but her body would always betray her when it felt those solid hands graze over her. Franky silenced her pursuits with a hard kiss to her mouth, teeth biting over soft lips. She dropped Bridget down onto the plush mattress and reached for her thin underwear, but Bridget’s hands reached up to cup Franky’s flushed cheeks in one last attempt to understand. “Franky…” She said calmly.  
  
“Gidge, please,” Franky’s voice cracked in desperation. “ _Please_ , I just need you,” Bridget could see even in the dimly lit bedroom, her lover’s eyes were brimming with tears.  
  
Bridget was torn. On one hand she would freely give Franky anything that she desired, but on the other, she knew that Franky was seeking escape from something between her thighs.  
  
Control. Whatever it was that was bothering Franky was making her spiral out of control. And what did Franky Doyle need to center her and bring her back? Bridget. She needed her girl to make her feel whole.

So Bridget did what she did best. She submitted her trust fully into her love.

“Well, hello to you too,” Bridget hummed sometime later as her breathing had finally returned to a regular rhythm.  
  
“Hi,” Franky said as she wiped the sweat that had formed on her brow.  
  
“Would you like to talk about it?” Bridget asked as she turned over onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look down at Franky’s unreadable face.  
  
“I just needed to feel good at something,” Franky finally whispered. She reached her hand up to tuck a stray piece of blonde hair behind Bridget’s ear.  
  
“Did something happen at work?” Bridget translated expertly. Franky sighed. She knew that it was impossible to hide from Bridget’s questions forever.  
  
“A former client of mine came in for family pictures,” Franky explained her warm welcome.  
  
“Oh, baby,” Bridget cooed and bushed a comforting palm over Franky’s cheek.  
  
“It was awful, Gidge. I…” Franky paused in thought as she shook her head. Bridget watched silently as Franky processed her feelings.  
  
“I’ve never felt so fucking humiliated in my entire life.” Franky’s face was immediately covered by her hands, a warning sign that the tears weren’t far behind.  
  
“You have nothing to be humiliated about. We are happy,” Bridget punctuated her words with a kiss to Franky’s hands. “And we’re in love,” she kissed again, carefully taking Franky’s hands in her own and pulling them away to see her face.  
  
It was then that Bridget noticed something was missing. The usual spark behind those emerald eyes had dimmed. How had she missed this?  
  
“Are you happy with me?” Bridget asked softly.  
  
“Of course I am,” Franky reassured with a quick squeeze to her hands. “I just…” The brunette paused in thought once more, searching her mind for the right words to explain what exactly was going on inside of her head. “Just forget it,” Franky gently pulled her hands away and slid out of bed.  
  
“Franky, please talk to me.”  
  
She padded nude towards the en suite, but paused in the doorway. “Just let me think, yeah?”  
  
When Franky returned to the bedroom, she was dressed for a run. She pulled her sneakers from the closet and leaned down to deliver a soft kiss to Bridget’s lips.  
  
“I just need a little bit of time,” Franky whispered.  
  
“Okay, be careful,” Bridget nodded giving Franky’s long ponytail a gentle tug. Franky smiled softly and placed her headphones over her ears, blocking out everything else around her.  
  
Utterly confused, Bridget fell back against her pillow and stared blankly at the ceiling above her. She reflected back on the last year spent falling more and more in love with this new Franky. This new Franky who wasn’t trapped away like a caged animal. Instead one that was allowed to thrive out in the open like she deserved. But why wasn’t she thriving?  
  
Bridget rose from bed and redressed. She knew that when Franky Doyle needed space, it was best to give it to her. Running always seemed to clear her mind when she was left unable to express herself with words. When Franky returned close to an hour later, Bridget had already eaten dinner and readied herself for bed. The brunette entered the bedroom, her body covered in a thin layer of sweat as her breath came in pants. Bridget glanced up from her book, trying to gauge how her lover was feeling afterwards. Franky smiled softly and nodded, signaling she was _almost_ there. Bridget watched as Franky went into the master bath and she heard the shower spurt to life. The psychologist turned back to her book to wait her out a bit longer.  
  
Eventually the water stopped, and Bridget watched as Franky returned into the bedroom drying herself off with a towel. Bridget couldn’t help but wink while she watched.  
  
"Like what you see?" Franky teased as she opened her towel to reveal her naked flesh underneath.  
  
"Always," Bridget giggled softly as she lowered her reading glasses down to properly oggle Franky’s incredible body.  
  
"I love what I see,” Franky nodded in Bridget’s direction as she tugged on a clean pair of pajamas.  
  
"Do you?" Bridget bit her lip softly.  
  
"Of course I do," Franky reassured her partner as she came to sit down on Bridget’s side of the bed, her eyes on her fingernails. "About earlier... I don't know that I can put it into words, Gidge. Just know that the last thing I want to do is hurt you. I love you, I really do. More than I've loved anyone. I love our life and I am so fucking dileriously happy with you-"  
  
"But?" Bridget added nervously, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
"But being a photographer…” Franky sighed loudly. “I’m not happy... I've thought about what else I could do, and I've got nothing,” she shook her head, utterly confused at where to go from here. The last twelve years of Franky’s life had been spent building her career in something she was passionate about. Without being a Domme, who was she?  
  
"Well, that is simply not true-" Bridget set her book down on the nightstand as she sat up with her legs crossed underneath her, putting her total focus into the conversation.  
  
"But it is. There's no respectable profession that I am qualified for." Franky had sunk most of her minimal savings on finishing her degree. She was adamant about not relying on anyone to pay her way anymore. Her and Bridget were equals, but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it that way without a steady source of income.  
  
"What does respectable even mean?"  
  
"You're a psychologist, Gidge. A talented, educated, and beautiful psychologist. Look at me,” Franky motioned to herself. “I'm a fucking portrait photographer. When we go out, people look at you and then they look at me and wonder why the hell you’re with me. You know it and I know it. I just can’t compete with your friends." Bridget had to admit that Franky’s fears weren’t unwarranted. She’d been on the receiving end of some questioning looks at Bridget’s work gatherings. Although they didn’t bother her, she knew Franky wasn’t immune to the glances.  
  
"I don't care what other people think, Baby, and neither should you. I know why I am with you. I love you and you love me and we're happy. You said it. You're happy. I am happy too. I just want this." Bridget pressed her palm against Franky’s beating heart. "This is all I want."  
  
"But what if it's not-'' Bridget closed the small space between them with a kiss, interrupting Franky’s sentance. "enough?"  
  
"Franky, what are we really talking about? You know I love you and I know you love me. And besides, I think you already know what you want to do.”  
  
“And what is that?” Franky asked as her eyebrows creased.  
  
“You want to do what you've always done, I don't know why you're fighting it.”  
  
“Because I'm not that person anymore,” Franky shook her head. Bridget was her one and only. How could she practice on anyone else when they couldn’t hold a candle to her perfect match?  
  
“But you want to be.”  
  
“I want to be with you.”  
  
"I want to be with you too. _You_.” Bridget cupped Franky’s cheeks in her hands, her blue eyes boring into green. “Whoever you want to be.”  
  
“But I don't know who I want to be.”  
  
“You do, baby. Don’t you see? Nothing had to change.”  
  
“What do you mean?  
  
"Baby, I fell in love with you... I fell in love with the you that you were in the first place. The you that you always were. The you, you want to be." Bridget’s left hand dropped from her cheek and came to rest on Franky’s dominatrix tattoo covering her arm. Franky glanced down as Bridget caressed the inked skin gently.  
  
“Are you saying what I think you're saying?  
  
"Yes," Bridget pulled one of Franky’s hands to her mouth, kissing her knuckles tenderly.  
  
“You’re sure about this?”  
  
“You need to be able to do what you love. Practice your craft.”  
  
“Why are you so good at that?”  
  
“I'm not the only one who's good at what she does,” Bridget touched her temple and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “But I only want to be good for you, Madame,” her voice rasped, causing Franky to groan.  
  
“Are you sure?  
  
“Absolutely. Aren't you?  
  
“Not really... I don't have clients anymore,” Franky scratched the back of her head. She would literally be starting from the ground up once more.  
“You should go talk to Gavin... and see what he says.”  
  
“Yeah you're right... maybe it's time for me to go back home.”  
  
“Now, don’t you think I deserve to be rewarded for my good behavior?” Bridget batted her lashes.  
  
“Ms. Westfall, you insatiable cheeky minx,” Franky’s smiled broadly before pressing Bridget onto her back and tugging off her clothes once again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and constructive feedback is always welcome!


End file.
